


Recreating Camelot

by darkblueballoon



Category: The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Discrimination, Multi, Revolution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkblueballoon/pseuds/darkblueballoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clay first met Corporal Jensen he knew the kid would eventually be granted a place in his small pack and would flourish there. What he hadn't known was that the kid would start a revolution and drag the rest of them along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Apparantly my muse is still stuck in something of a dark and angsty rut. This fic came about because I wanted to try to write one of those Cougar is really a cat fics. Then it turned into a full blown supernatural AU with the the team being various things and life generally being awesome for them. After all, who doesn't respect someone who can turn into a mountain lion or dire wolf at will? Then it struck me that if normal humans knew, most of them would be scared stupid of them and react accordingly. This is the result. All I can say is it will have a happy ending.

The incident report lay open on his desk looking bland and innocuous. Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay wanted to set the fucking thing on fire. If the fuckwits weren’t smart enough to recognise a non human when they saw one, then it was their own fault and Cougar had done the armed forces a favour. It wasn’t like the fact that Special Ops was almost entirely filled with non humans was kept secret and Cougar himself was distinctive enough that he should be immediately recognisable to anyone who wasn’t blind, and given some of the abilities that Clay had come across over the years even that wouldn’t be a good enough excuse for such stupidity.

But there was no getting away from the fact that, justified or not under pack law the world over, the humans in the United States military came down hard on what they called “troublesome elements”. If Cougar hadn’t been the best sniper the military had seen in years he would have been dancing a jig at the end of a rope already. And now, because Clay had “been unable to exert a sufficient level of control over a subordinate” they were both going to face punishment. Fifty lashes with Clay holding the whip. To try and refuse to do it would be deemed treason and he would be shot, Cougar would still be flogged half within an inch of his life and what was left of his unit, his pack, would be scattered to the four winds.

Clay tried to keep his face free of expression as he stepped onto the parade ground, but between the angry and aggrieved muttering from human and Other alike it was hard. It was made so much harder when Cougar raised his head – they took his hat, the bastards took his hat! Clay thought as his bitterness grew – and in a rare moment of near defiance he looked Clay in the eyes and shook his head. Clay knew then, that if he did not take the whip and refused to punish Cougar and died for it, Cougar would never forgive him.

He looked across the ground to where Pooch and Roque stood, both perfectly still and thrumming with anger. They each of them looked ready to tear the ones who held Cougar limb from limb but were reigning in the impulse and that told Clay everything he needed to know.

Clay took the whip when it was held out to him and waited while the charges were read aloud.

“For the crime of disrespecting a human Corporal Carlos Alvarez will receive ten lashes. For the crime of striking a human, thirty lashes. For lack of remorse over his actions, an additional ten lashes.

“For not ensuring that his subordinates show sufficient respect for a human, Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay will carry out Corporal Alvarez’s punishment himself. Let this be a lesson for all those gathered here today. And let them note, also, my leniency. Begin.”


	2. First Impressions Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen meets the Losers and makes a singular first impression.

“But King Arthur’s army didn’t have to wait for dawn to take the steep and rocky path down the mountain because the king was powerful and he could make enough mist lights for everyone in his army, Human and Other alike.”

“I like that bit.” She always says that when they reach this point in the story.

Jensen looked down at the top of his niece’s head. “And why’s that?” It had become tradition a long time ago. It was as much a comfort to him as it was to her.

“Because Arthur helped them all. He didn’t have to do that.” Sophie was small for her age and it was never more readily apparent to Jensen than on the nights before he left for a new assignment and Sophie would curl up against him with the book in her lap. The tight hug was tradition too.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” 

This isn’t part of the script and it takes him by surprise. It took him a moment to think of what to say next.

“So do I, chipmunk.” He says with a sigh. “So do I.”

“You can feel it too, right Uncle Jake? You can feel Mum crying?”

“Yes, kiddo, I can.” It came out nearly a whisper and he dropped his shields. He wrapped her in calm and safe and hope and most of all love. “And it makes me hurt, too.”

“But you’ll come back?” Jensen can feel her soaking up the waves of hope he’s sending her way, adding it to her own determined resolve, so strong for one so young and Jensen has to concentrate on not tainting that hope with fear because she’s sensitive enough to feel it.

“I’ll do my best.” He cannot say ‘yes’ because she’s his niece and deserves the truth and he couldn’t lie to her if he wanted to. “I promise I will do my best.”

_-~^~-_

Clay met the kid at the gate. He’d read the kid’s file and had been impressed even before he saw how young he was. All Jensen had to do was touch a computer or something like it and the equipment would, metaphorically speaking, roll over and beg for him. The kid’s skills at what was euphemistically called intelligence gathering were astonishing – Clay did, and would always call it what it was: the kid could hack, wheedle and cajole his way into anything if given enough time, space and the incentive to do so. But none of that was surprising, not for a tech of Jensen’s calibre.

No, the big surprise is that the kid wasn’t some kind of techno-mage. He was an empath, and there were serial killers under less invasive surveillance than this kid had been while off base. Clay always felt a little uneasy around psyons until he had properly marked their scent, and Jensen was noted as being a Manipulator as well as a Receiver. Clay had thought Conduit Empaths a myth until he had gotten his hands on that file. He wondered if it had anything to do with the kid being a Changeling as they were sometimes called, and Changelings were almost as rare as Conduit Empaths. A Changeling was a Gifted child born to entirely human parents and most ended up dead before they were out of their teens. Clay was left wondering what that meant for his new tech, and for the Pack.

“Corporal Jensen, reporting for duty, sir.”

The kid was watching him without looking at him Clay noted and wondered if he had served with any wolves before or if it was instinctive the way it had been with Pooch several years before. Clay took a moment to study the kid in person. He was young and looked as though he could handle himself in a fight from the way he balanced out his weight and he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He appeared neither hostile nor overly intimidated by Clay which was always a good starting point.

“At ease, Corporal. I’m sure you already know that I’m Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay. I will tell you now, Corporal, if I tell you to call me by my full title you will be in so much shit that daylight will be a long forgotten memory. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” The kid gave a sloppy salute and a cocky grin. “Can I call you Clay then, sir?”

Clay suspected that his next few words would determine whether this temporary assignment became permanent so he took a moment to consider his reply, taking into account the nearby guard station and the layers of fear, anxiety and hope he could smell pouring off the kid as well as how much of an idiot he would be to pass up and opportunity like Jensen.

“If I can call you Jensen, then yes Corporal you can call me Clay.” 

Jensen grinned and his next salute was parade ground perfect. Clay suspected, and Jensen’s file supported his hypothesis, that Jensen would show respect by following orders rather than by performing what he obviously saw as unnecessary niceties. Clay wouldn’t deny that it would be a dent in his pride to have that grin directed at him on a regular basis, but it was a small price to pay for genuine respect and to have a top class tech on his team. So far Jensen had, in Clay's admittedly fairly relaxed book, toed the line, but had yet to actually cross it into more dangerous territory.

“I assume that you know everything on record about us, and probably a lot that isn’t. “ Clay stopped a waited for Jensen’s response, which was a wave of trepidation, excitement and possibly a little pride. “Good. Let’s go.”

_-~^~-_

Jensen tried to ignore the swirl of emotions that buffeted his shields; it always took a small adjustment period to get used to all of the new minds around him. Harder to ignore were the whispers that followed them as they walked the few hundred yards to the car that would take Jensen to his new home away from home. It didn’t seem to matter how far he travelled; certain details would precede him. Like the whole Changeling thing. He should be used to it by now he should be used to the whispers and the looks. But he wasn’t. Clay was the first person in a week that didn’t treat him like a contagious disease. Jensen could feel his wariness and could understand it. Clay had a pack to protect and Jensen was a potential threat by anyone’s measure. But he was surprised by how, under the thin veneer of callous opportunism, Clay felt protective of him. 

During the car journey Jensen prattled. First about the car and its interior (“really, Clay, CO or not, I have to say that your taste in cars sucks!” which earned a chuckle and an inquiry about his apparent desire to walk the rest of the way), then questions about the team (would Cougar really skin him if he touched his hat? He’d heard stories. What were his real chances of dodging one of Roques’ knives? Why didn’t Clay get Pooch to do something with his piece of shit car? He is a techno-mage, right?). The last question had Clay leaning over to open Jensen’s door, one eyebrow raised in question.

“You wanna?”

“Nope. I’m good thanks.” 

Jensen managed to stay quiet for the rest of the journey to the house after that. 

Jensen had really hoped he might make a good first impression with this team but he didn’t think “oh shit, I’m so dead,” was a suitable opening gambit. The way Pooch’s smile faltered and Roque’s glare intensified didn’t seem to bode well as Jensen felt a wave of tremulous amusement from Pooch and disdain, almost contempt from Roque. Cougar just looked at him, head tilted to the side and nostrils flaring slightly as he took in Jensen’s scent and Jensen felt a wave of calm, almost clinical interest. He told himself that things could’ve gone worse, that they had in the past. It didn’t help.

“Jensen, you already know this but this is my pack. Roque, Pooch and Cougar. Losers, this is Jensen. Play nice.”

Jensen gave the room at large a tentative grin and a wave. “Please don’t eat me. I’m stringy and have too much gristle to taste nice.”

And so it began.


	3. Think Before You Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few mistaken words cause trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should tell you that this chapter includes references to past trauma, violence - including violence toward children - and minor character death,

Chapter 2

Pooch wasn’t sure what to make of the new kid. He didn’t have the senses that the others had, he couldn’t scent the chemicals in the kid’s sweat and know the fundamentals of what he was feeling, whether it was genuine fear or merely first meeting jitters. With a thought and a few well chosen words he could make the worst piece of shit engine purr, and he thought he was pretty good at getting a read on people his total lack of over the top senses or funky mind tricks considered, but Jensen was turning out to be something of a conundrum. 

In all things tech Jensen was every bit as good as Clay had told them he’d be. He’d seen techno-mages who could meld with electrical systems in ways similar to a telepath connecting to another’s mind that couldn’t do half the stuff that Jensen did for shits and giggles. Pooch swore to himself that he wasn’t being swayed by the live satellite feed of Jolene and Jasmine playing in their local park. But the problems Pooch did have with the kid were tied in with that little gift. Jensen had barely enough interpersonal skills to get by, and Pooch suspected that he had only lasted as long as he had because some key people had decided to adapt to fill in the gaps, and it wasn’t for lack of Jensen trying either. The kid was painful to watch sometimes, especially around himself and Cougar. With Clay Jensen mostly relied on military decorum and tried to do the same with Roque, who to everyone’s surprise had yet to inflict actual bodily harm on their new tech. 

Whenever Jensen would walk into the room, his eyes would flick about to take note of who was there, even if Pooch suspected all he had to do was send out mental feelers or whatever it was Jensen did. If Roque or Clay were present the poor kid would tense and would fall into his overly chatty, even by Jensen standards, ‘let’s make friends!’ mode. If Cougar was there, Jensen would remain cautious but wouldn’t be any worse than his average Jensen grade annoying, talking nineteen to the dozen but unlike with Clay and Roque most of what he said was entirely rhetorical and required nothing but their presence and their patience. But Pooch would get an actual smile. The first few had been hesitant, but as the kid’s confidence in Pooch’s presence grew, they slowly morphed into full out grins.

“I’ve tracked down that part you wanted,” Jensen said as he sat his laptop down on the tabletop where Pooch had laid out the guts of some mechanical device. “Should be here by Friday.”

Pooch couldn’t with hold his whoop of joy. “Jensen, you are officially my favourite tech on the entire planet.”

Jensen looked at him sidelong and Pooch didn’t need to be a telepath to know the kid thought he was taking the piss.

“Use your mind powers if you don’t believe me.” Pooch surprised himself with that one, but not so much as Jensen. The kid just stared blankly at him, mouth agape and then he seemed to collapse in on himself.

Before Pooch had a chance to try and apologise, because obviously he had made a catastrophic error of judgement somewhere between the beginning of the sentence and the end, Jensen was up and out of the room and Pooch could hear doors slamming shut through the house, although he didn’t hear either the front or the back door go.

“Shit!” he hissed under his breath as he tried to work out which way Jensen had gone, now that there were no more doors banging to give him a clue. He didn’t think that the kid had been there long enough to have found himself a hideaway hole the way Cougar had on the roof and he had in the garage.

Pooch was starting to get a little frantic when Cougar arrived from wherever he had been looking less tense than when he had left and not a little smug. When he saw Pooch on the verge of leaving the house and shouting after Jensen like some kind of stray animal – an act that would not go down well with the powers that be, they had all had to sign an agreement for TPTB to even consider giving them Jensen for even a temporary placement – he tipped his head to the side and Pooch could see a small frown under the hat.

“I fucked up. Can’t find Jensen.”

Pooch could almost see the ripple of surprise run through Cougar and Pooch could only watch as Cougar started scenting the air. Pooch trailed behind him as he moved methodically through the house, stopping briefly at each door before moving on with a shake of his head and what Pooch was sure was a mumbled obscenity, though who it was directed at Pooch couldn’t guess but if Pooch had to put money on it, he would say it was all directed squarely in his direction.

They ended up in front of the airing cupboard of all places. Pooch was doubtful but Cougar just opened the door wide and for a moment they both stood motionless with shock.

There, curled up smaller than Pooch would have thought possible, was Jensen. He back was against the back wall of the cupboard, his arms wrapped tight around knees pulled uncomfortably close to his chest. Pooch felt something inside him twist, and for a brief moment wondered if Jensen was projecting – he had heard that some empaths could do that – a dearly wished he wasn’t because if that was even just an echo of what Jensen was feeling the full force of the emotional maelstrom would be near agony.

Cougar had started talking, his voice soft and soothing to Pooch’s fraying nerves but it seemed to be having little effect on Jensen who had somehow shifted to make himself look even smaller.

Cougar’s tone changed just slightly and Pooch could see the kid shaking his head. 

Satisfied that Cougar was quite capable of getting Jensen out of the cupboard, Pooch left for the kitchen. Pooch still had a lot to learn about Jensen, but the one thing that was impossible to miss was the kid’s reaction to anything caffeinated. They had a stash of truly good coffee in one of the top cupboards in the kitchen. Pooch was making the executive decision that the three of them deserved a cup, and he would make it the best damn cup of java Jensen had ever tasted.

_-~^~-_

Cougar had never told any of the others, but Jensen wasn’t the first Changeling he had met. It had been years ago, and until Jensen had turned up he had almost been able to stop himself from thinking about it.

Rosa’s mother had been from a poor family, and so had to live just outside the fringes of the Othertown where his family had settled after arriving from Mexico. When Rosa had begun to start fires every time she sneezed, a bad situation had spiralled downwards and Rosa’s mother, whose name Cougar couldn’t remember even though he could recall her scent, had gone from door to door in the Othertown until finally his parents had given her a roof for the night that had turned into an extended stay.

He had been given the duty of protecting little Rosa that first night when everyone else either had other things to be doing or were too tired to be trusted with looking after a toddler. He remembered her as a feisty little thing, all wild dark hair and cheeky smiles. Neither of them had understood why the adults had looked so drawn and worried for the couple of weeks that Rosa and her mother had stayed with them.

He and Rosa had grown quite close. He had felt proud of being able to look after someone for a change rather than being the one coddled by his parents and older sisters. This little girl had especially liked playing with him when he shifted into his cat form. He’d still been a cub then and still little clumsy on paws that he had yet to grow into. He purred when she scratched behind the ears and tolerated it when she yanked on his tail. He remembered her being disappointed that he couldn’t roar. Rosa’s mother had been worried at first, believing the stories of how a bite could turn a person into a shifter, or a were as the humans insisted on calling them, and it had taken hours to convince her that it couldn’t happen.

After two weeks the calm was shattered when there was a pounding on the front door, long after night had fallen. He could remember his parents shouting and growling, Rosa’s mother had been begging, pleading. Rosa had been scared stupid, unable to move until one of the police man went to hit her mother and the little girl screamed and the man went up in flames, something that Carlos had known was terrifying to Rosa; hurting people had been her biggest fear. That police officer was the first person Cougar saw die.

The second had been Rosa. Three years old with a bullet through her brain. She had been the first person he had tried to save, and he still bore the scar more than twenty years later on his left shoulder.

And all of those memories, all that fear, he knew, would be doing nothing for the tech’s state of mind as Cougar tried to coax him out of the cupboard. Or maybe they were what Jensen responded to, using Cougar’s long suppressed fear to draw himself out of his own. Because Jensen was drenched in fear and several other highly unpleasant emotions that Cougar could scent, but was also slowly returning to himself.

Cougar wasn’t sure how long it had taken to get Jensen out of the cupboard, but he barely noticed the return of Clay and Roque and Cougar couldn’t stop the growl when they tried to come near; the memories still too strong and the need to protect the Changeling was paramount. 

When Jensen was out of the cupboard looking rumpled and smelling strongly of embarrassment that verged on mortification, he stood staring down at his socked feet.

Everyone stood in tense silence for a few moments before Jensen smoothed out his clothes and forced a laugh that came out high and grated on Cougar’s nerves.

“And that concludes the worst game of hide and seek ever.”

“Now is not the time, Jensen. Pooch has made coffee. We are going to sit down at the table and you are going to tell us what you are able to so something like this doesn’t happen again. Is that clear enough, Jensen?” 

“Yes sir.” The kid was staring down at his feet.

“Good. C’mon, let’s get this over with.” Clay said and started to make his way down the hall and into the kitchen.

It had taken a light nudge from Cougar to get Jensen moving and once the kid was putting one foot in front of the other Cougar spoke. “He is not angry at you. Not really. Remember that.”

Jensen almost stumbled in surprise at hearing Cougar speaking to him. Of course Jensen had heard the man speak before, the odd word to Clay and Pooch here and there, but there hadn’t yet been anything directed his way.

“Er, thanks. I guess.” Jensen knew he sounded unsure, weak, but he was feeling like he had been chewed up and spat out and at that moment in time really couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

When they reached the kitchen, Jensen squared his shoulders and he walked in and to the seat next to Pooch with Cougar taking the one to his left. Pooch handed him a cup of coffee that smelled divine and he took a slow mouthful before putting the cup down.

“When you’re ready, kid.”

Jensen took note of the four men around the table. Pooch who felt remorse rather than guilt. Roque, who for once was feeling something other than faint disgust. Clay who was hiding concern behind a black face. And Cougar who was mostly calm, but with a layer of protectiveness that Jensen was certain was somehow connected to the wave of gut wrenching fear he had felt not long before.

Jensen looked down at the tabletop, took a deep shuddering breath and started to talk.


	4. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because no one saw this coming.

There were very few teams in Spec Ops who had any humans on them and human majority teams were almost non-existent. Jensen had the dubious honour of being part of one of the latter on his first time out. He hadn’t been in close quarters with any humans since he had left his sister and joined the army, and even his sister barely counted when compared with his new team and this left him overly jittery, and thus overly verbose.

Jensen got along with Sergeant Mears the best. The man, who Jensen knew loathed him on principal, at least had the decency to acknowledge that his tech skills were worth protecting and could keep from making his opinion clear whilst on mission. He doesn’t even want to think about the rest of his team; the less said about them the better.

After the first five very unpleasant minutes in their company, Jensen had taken to carrying his laptop with him and muttering at his computer screen when he needed to talk, so that at the very least he could honestly say he wasn’t talking to them. He’d learned to stop attempting to draw the others into conversation after the incident with the duct tape and the threat of needle and thread; he only needed to be able to speak on missions after all, and if all else failed there was Morse code.

He’d thought that that day had been the worst he would ever have to face. But that was before his third mission. 

It had all began well. He’d managed to avoid pissing off his team too badly and they had reached their target location with no problems, and Jensen found himself proud that he had said less than two hundred words in two hours, which was a significant improvement but he didn’t think the rest of his team had noticed. There were no more threats – they were too close to their target for unnecessary chatter – but that didn’t stop them from littering him with punches and kicks when he became too annoying. Jensen found himself wondering how he was able to withhold yelps and shocked shouts of pain when he couldn’t stop quoting statistics about biodiversity in desert environments hot and cold, which was useful information should they become stranded if not directly pertinent to their reason for being there. In fact, everything was just peachy until a guard walked through the door that Matthews was supposed to be watching. 

Jensen knew the extent of his abilities, knew that if he wanted to he could have turned the man’s anger into fear for long enough to shoot him and leave. There would forever be in his memory that split second when he could have done it, becoming the monster that most people believed empaths and telepaths to be, because to have done so would have made him that monster. Mind or body, it didn’t matter. Rape would always be rape. And it didn’t matter what it said in the rulebook about using every means available to avoid capture, Jensen wouldn’t do it. 

The man shot Jensen in the leg and, as he fell, cracked Jensen on the side of his skull with the butt of his rifle and the world went dark. 

_-~^~-_

When Jensen woke, feeling slow and groggy and not a little nauseous, he was in a room filled with too bright lights. It was worse than the times he had been locked in a pitch black room for days during training, at least then he had been able to open his eyes.

They hadn’t tied him up and they didn’t withhold food or water or a bucket for the resulting mess like he had been told to expect. No, they just left the essentials somewhere in the room where he wasn’t so he would have to open his eyes to find them or risk knocking over the bucket into his food. The lights messed with his ability to sleep, and without even the most basic suggestions of a circadian rhythm his perception of the passing of time was completely shot. He didn’t know if he had been there hours or days and as time went by he found himself caring less and less.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when he was taken out of the room and dragged, stumbling, through a maze or corridors. When they finally stopped moving and Jensen had just about been able to adjust to the changed light intensity, he was standing in a room. It had three chairs, two of which were already occupied.

Jensen was shoved down into the third, his wrists shackled to the armrests and his ankles to the legs. They completely ignored his babble which alternated between completely inane and utterly fucked off and explained what was going to happen, in broken but still all too comprehensible English. Jensen, if he was not willing to adjust – their word not his – the other captive’s mind until he was willing to answer, was at the very least to inform them of whether or not they were telling the truth. If he were to refuse once, they would hit him. If he was stupid enough to refuse twice, they would strike his fellow in captivity. The third time, it would be his turn again and so on and so forth, with the punishments escalating with each refusal. They then turned to said fellow in captivity and spoke in a language he could only just follow, effectively repeating their threat inside out.

Jensen refused to play ball and the man sat opposite him remained stubbornly silent even once the blood started to flow. It was around the time that the middle finger on his right hand was broken that his shields dissolved and he struggled to keep the feelings of the other people in the room from overwhelming him. When they broke the other man’s arms the wave of pain made Jensen black out. Once he had regained consciousness, his control over his own emotions lasted until they broke his legs into several more pieces than nature had intended for them.

When Jensen looked back on it, he wondered if his captors had had any clue about what they were doing at all. Telepaths, and to a lesser extent empaths as well, held the potential to inflict real, physical damage on another living being if they messed with a non-psyon’s mind enough on top of the psychological impact they could have.

Jensen didn’t know how he came to be in the hospital, and he had never found any trace of the whole fucked up situation in any of the records he had gained access to, which was most of them. But that just left Jensen intrigued, and every so often he would take a wander through the files to see if anything came up. So far: nothing.  
_-~^~-_

“It hasn’t happened since they let me out of the hospital. I thought they’d stopped. I’m sorry.” Jensen’s throat felt raw and his hands were shaking. He couldn’t look up from the tabletop, he didn’t want to see the looks on their faces as he couldn’t help but feel their emotions horror and disgust the strongest and the most easily deciphered and Jensen couldn’t be sure about what or whom they were aimed at. Jensen knew that they were attempting to stop their emotions from seeping out, and for non-psyons they weren’t doing half bad Jensen had to give them that, but he just wanted to curl up in his cupboard again.

“This isn’t in your record.” Clay stated after a long few minutes of silence.

“No. Don’t know why.” When Pooch gave him another cup of steaming hot coffee it felt good to have something for his hands to do so he sat there spinning the cup in his hands and occasionally taking a sip. “Some kind of mega hush-hush. A conspiracy theorist’s dream come true if they ever find out about it. I’m kind of surprised they haven’t already.” 

“So it was the suggestion that you look inside my head that set it off?” Pooch asked, and Jensen could feel such a tumult of emotion emanating from him that he couldn’t guess what the man was actually feeling. He hoped the man wasn’t feeling guilty.

“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know, Pooch. Maybe it had nothing to do with what you said. Maybe on some level I wanted to and it brought it all back. Even though I want to, it’s hard to trust sometimes and I just want to be sure. And that was way too much information, so let’s just pretend that I didn’t just sound as if I came from a nineteenth century melodrama and that I was actually able to keep my mouth shut for once.” 

“Usually, Jensen, I would be right with you on that point.” Clay sighed. “But with something like this... we need to clear the air a little if you’re going to be part of this team. This isn’t like the situation with The Hat. And before you ask, Jensen, yes The Hat does involve capital letters, and no, I don’t know why.”

“Are you sure, because I can think of a few reasons why...” Jensen didn’t get very far, and he just knew that Clay had levelled the Scowl of Doom at him.

“Jensen.”

That one word had made Jensen look up and quickly scan the faces around him just as he had before he started talking. Jensen hadn’t thought that there would be anything more frightening in the world than Roque glaring, but it turned out that Roque with a studiously blank face was utterly terrifying, and the man was beyond rage. Pooch wasn’t himself without an expression on his face, and neither was Clay. But the most unnerving was Cougar, whose eyes had gone from the warm brown he sometimes saw under the hat to black and Jensen could see claws instead of nails and he was growling.

“I didn’t mean to do it, I swear! I’d never do anything like that to any of you!” Jensen was standing and looked ready to bolt again.

“Why do psyons never get the whole picture?” Roque muttered before raising his voice. “Jensen, shut up!”

Jensen flinched.

“We’re angry at _them_. We want to kill _them_. We will be the first people to stand up and say it wasn’t your fault.”

“But why? I mean, that’s what you should be thinking. I know I would be. And-“

“It was us. We got you out.” 

Cougar wasn’t loud like Roque and while he had something about him it isn’t the authority that surrounds Clay, and it’s not Pooch’s warmth either. But Jensen stopped talking. Stopped moving except to collapse boneless back onto his chair.

“But ...” 

“No buts. There is no reference to that mission written down anywhere. I’m sure you’re already aware of this.” It was Clay talking now. “We never had your name, and there was no way of knowing what you looked like under all the injuries. Cougar only realised where we knew your scent from this morning.”

“But that doesn’t make sense!” Jensen was becoming twitchy, his fingers tapping against the tabletop.

“Yes it does. “ Pooch said and everyone turned to look at him. “The agreement.” 

Jensen watched as the faces around him lit with understanding. “What agreement?”

“We needed a good tech, so we went for the best we could find. It took a while but in the end they okayed the transfer under certain conditions.”

“That were bullshit then and are bullshit now,” Roque growled.

“True. And we’re breaking them by having this conversation.” Pooch put in.

“The first was that it was temporary, and unless you have objections Jensen I’m working on that one. I don’t want to lose the best tech out there, and I’ve seen you working with Pooch and Cougar. Never mind the fact that Roque didn’t put you in hospital for that comment about men with big knives last week.”

“I really didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” Jensen said, giving Roque a hopeful smile.

“That’s the only reason why I didn’t hurt you.” Roque replied. 

Pooch laughed. “That says it all really. You wanna stick around, Jensen?” 

Jensen had been living with the Losers for several weeks while Roque recovered from a leg injury. They’d put up with his talking, mostly, and Pooch and Cougar had stopped some of his ex-team mates from beating him to a pulp, because while Jensen wasn’t half bad in a brawl it was four against one. Pooch had smiled, Cougar had adjusted his hat and for reasons Jensen couldn’t quite explain his would-be assailants had run. No one but his sister had ever done anything like that before.

“What were the other conditions?” 

“There are several, but they amount to: don’t start any shit with the powers that be.” Clay answered and Jensen noted the way everyone glanced at Cougar.

“And that includes asking questions about bizarre and non-existent ops?”

“And getting into fights with humans,” Pooch added with another, more pointed look at Cougar.

Cougar shrugged. “They started it.”

Jensen knew there was a story there, something that would make him angry if he ever heard it. He saw it in the way Cougar held his head high and in the absence of any reproach from Clay or Roque.

“So, you in for the long haul?” Clay asked. “You don’t have to answer now, Jensen. And I won’t keep you here unless you want to stay.”

Jensen rarely took notice of what his instincts told him about the world. Sometimes that was a good move, sometimes it lead to new nightmares. 

“Count me in,” Jensen said, quite unaware of the long term consequences of his impulsive decision to follow his instincts. “Is there any of the coffee left? Because...”


	5. Jensen hates clocks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen hates clocks. Really, really hates clocks.

Jensen wasn’t used to being lonely. He had been alone a lot in his life, especially before his parents had allowed his sister to see him on a semi regular basis. He still had piercingly clear memories of being locked in his room with nothing but annoyance and revulsion emanating from his parents, knowing that downstairs his sister was sat at the kitchen table eating her dinner wanting to meet him. So yes, Jensen was used to being alone. When he had joined the army and in the years that followed he had always been too busy to be able to acknowledge how much he was missing his sister and niece’s company, even when no one else would speak to him and his was reduced to talking to himself. He still hadn’t been able to shake the habit.

Somehow, this was worse. He was alone in a hospital room on forced bed rest until he was deemed fit enough to return to the house to complete his recovery. Visiting hours had ended about half an hour before and had his team had only left reluctantly when the nurse had stood at the door with a glare that made Roque hunch his shoulders and shuffle out of the room. Now Jensen was left alone and for the first time in his life he actually felt lonely with nothing to distract him. 

The walls were some kind of sickly pale green that hospitals always seem to think helps their patients recover. There was no TV or radio and he’s not allowed access to his laptop, or even a book; he has too many broken and fractured bones in his right arm to be left to his own devices on that one. The stomach and leg wounds also preclude getting out of bed, let alone walking to somewhere more interesting. He doesn’t even have a window to stare longingly out off in the place of something intellectually stimulating to look at.

His team were on the far side of base. He still thought of them as team. The idea of pack hadn’t entirely sunken in yet but he thought Clay and the others would cut him some slack for that, he had been going into shock after suffering a significant amount of blood loss when the subject had arisen after all. 

_-~^~-_

“You better not be thinking of dying on us, Jensen.”

He hadn’t recognised it as Clay’s voice at first, but he was just aware enough to know that the waves of concern that flew around him are _for_ him. It took him a little by surprise until he was able to recognize their originators despite how cloudy his senses were becoming. His team. His team were really there.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Jensen couldn’t help the way his words slurred even though he tried to speak slowly and clearly. “I’ve only just finished turning you into a proper CO.”

He realised that attempting to laugh was a bad idea when white hot pain shot through him, making him gasp and his vision blur. And Clay didn’t cuff him round the back of the head as he had done in the past when Jensen was hurt but still attempting to act as though he wasn’t.

“Stay still,” Cougar ordered as he knelt down beside Jensen, who must have lost consciousness for a while because the next thing he was aware of was being jostled about in the back of a van with Cougar and Pooch on either side of him.

“You came back,” Jensen wasn’t sure why that realisation was only just occurring, but the words seemed to be on repeat in his head. “You came back.” All his knew was that he had expected it to be like the last time, even then after knowing the Losers for a couple of months and knowing how they felt about leaving one of their own in harm’s way. 

Cougar was checking his bandages, saying something to Pooch that sounded suitably medical and complicated, or maybe it was Spanish Jensen wasn't entirely sure. It was hard to tell over the sound of the engine and through the haze of pain. He knew he was still saying “you came back” over and over again, and his mind was fogged and instead of being able to understand the emotions that are buffeting him he could only see washes of colour. Red felt like anger from Pooch and Clay, but for Cougar and Roque, Jensen wais sure it was blue, blurring into purple from Cougar whenever he hissed in pain. He wondered what that particular shade of green meant, like the colour of fresh grass, and why he’s even seeing the colours at all but it was getting harder to keep hold of his thoughts and eventually he just lets it all go.

“Of course we came back. You’re pack.” Clay had climbed between the front seats; Jensen was not sure why.

“I’m pack?” Jensen turned his head back and forth from Pooch to Cougar looking for confirmation.

“Sí.”

Jensen would claim for forever more that it was the manly pain-faint rather than the much less masculine you-really-like-me-faint that Pooch would claim it to be. He’ll certainly play the ‘I was injured’ card to the fullest when the time comes, because this is the Losers and the time _always_ comes.

_-~^~-_

The hospital food seemed to get worse each time he has to hang around long enough to taste it. It made him glad that he had been sent a whole stack of parcels crammed full of various kinds of baked good. The mini lemon curd tarts from his sister and niece were particularly well appreciated. It turned out that Nurse Ratchet, or whatever her name really is, was allergic to all things citrus and Jensen took great joy in humming happily as he ate them as she glared at him through the window in the door, unable to enter for fear of asphyxiation. He’ll have to buy his sister that laptop and Sophie mentioned something about wanting a bike last time they’d talked on the phone. And hugs. They would both get bone crushing hugs the next time he saw them. He wasn’t sure what to get Jolene and Jas for their contributions; he only knew them through Pooch’s stories and even that was enough to know that they wouldn’t appreciate something generic that required no consideration of who the gift was for. He’d ask Pooch later for some suggestions.

It passes the time between when they change his dressings and when his team, his pack arrives anyway. He would never get tired of being able to think that. Pack was a shifter thing. The mages and psyons had clans. Occasionally the two would overlap, like with the Losers. Changelings didn’t have packs or clans, were only rarely accepted into those that already existed. Jensen and Sophie had a family that included his sister, and now Jensen had a pack. He wanted it to include Sophie but wasn’t sure how to bring it up with Clay and the others. He knew that they had accepted Jolene and Jas, with Jolene being human, because they were all that was left of Pooch’s clan. If the Losers could accept one Changeling, an occurrence significantly rarer than allowing entry to an affiliated human, then Jensen would let himself hope.

Jensen looked at the clock. It was almost midday which meant visiting hours would start in just over ten minutes. Jensen couldn’t help but wonder if the staff in the hospital had put the clock in the utterly featureless room on purpose to annoy the patients who used it, or if it was one of those orders that came down from on high, that stated that every room would have a clock no matter how inappropriate it would be with bureaucrats making a yearly round to make sure they stayed there. 

He was in the middle of a mental debate with himself over whether or not base sixty was the most suitable system for chronicling the passage of time when the door opened and Jensen was hit with a wave of happiness a nanosecond before he heard Pooch laughing.

“Hey man. We come bearing gifts!” Pooch’s grin was infectious and Jensen ignored the way his bruises twinge to return it.

“Our resident food critic gave them five stars.” Clay nodded his head in Cougar’s direction and the other man gave a mock bow complete with hand flourishes.

“He’s willing to stake his reputation on that?” Jensen asked Clay while looking at Cougar.

“And The Hat.” Clay confirmed as Cougar gave a faint twitch that Jensen only saw because he was looking at the other man.

“High stakes indeed,” Jensen said as he took the bag from Pooch and looked inside. The bag was filled almost to the brim with cookies, cakes and lots of chocolate. A veritable hoard of goodies.

“The chocolate is Coug’s secret recipe.” Pooch told him. “It only appears on special occasions.”

“Special occasions, huh?” Jensen was about to take a random chocolate from the box when Roque entered the room in a waft of irritation. “Have a chocolate.” Jensen was careful with Roque in this frame of mind to make sure that what he said didn’t sound like he was giving orders because under the irritation was an anger that rose as Roque stewed on whatever’s bothering him.

Roque stared at him for a long moment and Jensen was careful not to meet his eyes; Roque’s wolf was too close to the surface right now for that to be safe. Jensen held his breath as he extended the box of chocolate with his left hand, doing his best to ignore the way that even his good arm shook. 

Roque looked at Jensen for a little longer before exhaling in a sharp huff and taking one. Jensen grinned and Roque glared and what tension had accumulated dissipated. 

Jenson was quick to return his arm to where it was supported by pillows and the mattress; a fact he knew the others took note of. He picked his own chocolate and popped it in his mouth. 

“So, what do you think?” 

It’s only when Jensen realised that he could hear but not see Pooch’s grin that he noticed that he had fallen back on his pillows and closed his eyes. 

“Cougar can keep The Hat. What was that?”

That seemed to make everyone laugh.

“Chilli.”

“Seriously? Because now that you’ve said that, it’s kinda obvious. Chilli. I’ll have to remember that. Anyone else want some?” Jensen pushed the bag down the bed.

Jensen laid back and listened to the easy chatter for the next five minutes until a nurse arrived with his lunch, making the bag of goodies suddenly disappear and Jensen had to make a show of eating it all before the nurse took the tray and lefts.

“What’s the special occasion?” Jensen asked once the man had left. 

“Jensen!” Roque growldc and Jensen is left with the realisation that he can tell one of Roque’s ‘you are annoying and I want to kill you but won’t’ growls from one of his ‘you don’t stand a chance’ growls. 

“It’s always the geniuses who are complete morons,” Pooch said with a laugh.

“Do you think that every tech that passes through our team becomes a part of the pack, Jensen?” Clay sounded almost exasperated, but Jensen thought there might be a little fondness beneath it.

“So that’s the special occasion? Me being part of the pack?” 

“What else would it be, Jensen?”

Jensen didn’t know what to say to that so he just grinned widely.

“I’ve also arranged for leave once you’re out of here.”

This seemed to be news to the others, as well and Jensen was left wondering whether he should ask his next question or not. 

“Would you... That is if you have time and want to...” Jensen hates it when he can’t come up with the right words for what should be easy sentences. “Doyouwanttomeetmysisterandmyniece?” 

There was a moments silence when Jensen knew that they were trying to translate what he had just said into comprehensible English.

“Would you mind repeating that, Jensen? I didn’t quite catch that.” Clay askeds, and Jensen had a moment to realise that he hadn’t really thought this through all too well.

“Would you, when I’m out of this hole, like to come with me to see my sister and my niece?” Jensen looked around, glancing from face to face and wondering if he’d overstepped any boundaries. “You don’t have to. But if you did, Jolene could come too if she has time – the house is big enough.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Clay answered first, and Jensen could feel as well as hear the man’s amusement.

Roque and Cougar nodded, and Jensen was sure that he saw a Cougar give a flicker of a smile before he was back to his usual poker face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Pooch said after a moment’s consideration. “Maybe you’ll be able to thank the girls in person,” he added, waving in the vague direction of the remainder of his earlier stack of presents.

_-~^~-_

There were a series of complications in Jensen’s recovery – Clay was still looking to make heads role over that – but a couple of months later the Losers were standing in front of a brick built building that was large and looked impressive as they drove up the driveway to the front door.

Jas had fallen silent when they reached the iron gates and Jolene was sat in the passenger seat lost for words.

As they drew to a stop, the front door opened and a tall blond man jogged down the steps to meet them, his limp no longer noticeable from a distance.

“Guys! You made it!” Jensen threw his arms around Pooch who was closest with a delighted laugh and held on tight for a couple of seconds before letting go and stepping back.

“Not what you were expecting?” Jensen flashes him an apologetic smile. “Maybe I should have warned you, but it didn’t really cross my mind. And you must be Jolene and Jasmine, those who make the best cookies in the world.”

Jensen didn’t stop talking as he hugged Cougar and got a face full of hat. He didn’t even attempt it with Clay or Roque, just grinned and gave a wave.

“You wanna come inside? There’s food and drink and TV.” 

“Jensen, just shut up and show us where to put our stuff.” Roque interrupted. “Maybe throw in a map while you’re at it. I don’t like you enough to end up dead because I got lost looking for the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, right... Erm, this way,” Jensen made some vague hand gestures before turning and going back up the steps. Those left behind shared a look before following the blond into the house.


	6. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers have a picnic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to past child neglect/abuse.

Elizabeth Jensen worried about her brother. Liz herself hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods with their parents being who they were, but that was nothing compared to what her little brother had had to live through. She could still remember the day that they had realised that Jake was a Changeling. It had been during one of their parents many parties and as always they were expected to attend dutifully before going obediently off to bed once they had sufficiently reinforced the image of the Jensens as a happy, normal family with Mother and Father looking down at their offspring with self-congratulating pride. They even had a telekinetic maid to do the cleaning; Talia had been the only Other kind Jake had been in any contact with before Sophie manifested and he joined the army.

Jake had been having headaches on and off for weeks, and they seemed to be becoming more intense with each recurrence. The doctors that their parents called on claimed it was hypochondria – doctors weren’t paid enough to tell families like theirs that they held the shame of being related to a Changeling. The night had started as usual with introductions and false smiles all round. It was about an hour into the party – half way through the children’s showing – that Jake had started to complain about another headache. Their parents gave him a couple of pain killers and left him to get on with his duties. They barely even noticed when Jake had collapsed on the way to the dining room, clutching his head and rocking back and forth whimpering. 

By the end of the night everyone in their parents circle had known that the Jensen boy was a Changeling, except for Jake himself. He didn’t learn of it until the next morning when Talia was made to put locks on his bedroom door, and did what she could to explain for him what was happening while she did it. She’d even found time to help him with his shields that all psyons developed. He’d been seven then, late for his first manifestation – Sophie had been four – and utterly terrified.

When their parents learned that Talia had been passing messages between the siblings she was promptly fired and Jensen was left alone and Liz had lost any idea she had ever had of who her little brother was. She didn’t meet him again – that was how they both thought of it – until she was five months pregnant and had just returned from their parents’ funeral, she had just been allowed the occasional face to face conversation on her birthday. It was years before she could honestly say that she had any idea who her little brother was, and that was when he had enlisted, aged seventeen.

She’d been utterly terrified by the thought of her little brother, who a large part of her still saw as the little boy curled up on the marble floor clutching his head, going through training, going on missions and risking his life on the orders of people who would quite happily see him and the rest of his new team dead in some distant country. 

When Liz had first heard about Jake’s most recent transfer she had been concerned. In the past, Jake had not had much success with the teams he had been placed in; the number of times he had refused a video call had led to many sleepless nights on her part and she always seemed to be getting notifications of on mission injuries. 

But this new team seemed to be different. They were all Other kind, a first in Jake’s experience, and to Liz it had been easy to see the anxiety and hope turning Jake around until he almost didn’t know which way was up anymore.

Liz knew Jake had, last time she saw him, been a little unsure about things like etiquette and socialising among Other kind. Until he had sat down with Sophie to go over the information he had tracked down just before he first left none of them had known about clans and packs and after learning about it, Liz had been left feeling a little hollow.

Some of her unease had faded after Jake had started to talk about “his team” in a way he never had before. She knew about Clay’s escapades – or misadventures – with women before she even worked out that he was the commanding officer. She learned that she would like to meet Pooch and Cougar. Until Jake had phoned to tell her that he had been taken into the pack, she had held onto doubts about Roque and Clay, but after seeing how they all formed a protective circle around Jake, even in her home, she decided to lay them aside unless either of them gave her genuine cause for concern.

For the first hour or so that the Losers, Jolene and Jas were there Liz kept mostly to the side lines, watching with an indulgent smile as Jake introduced Sophie while looking proud as punch of her. It was a very similar look to Pooch’s grin as he slipped his arms around Jolene and Jas and pulled them close. Liz couldn’t help but wonder how a human ended up bonded to a mage, but knew it wasn’t her place to ask questions.

Jake seemed calmer than she could ever remember seeing him. He’d bump shoulders with Pooch and Cougar – more Pooch than Cougar, she noted – and even though he never looked Clay or Roque directly in the eyes he was still comfortable enough to make jokes at their expense. And more often than not, they let him. Liz didn’t know if it was because Jake had so recently been in hospital or if it was how the group, the pack always functioned, but it reminded her of documentaries about the true wolf packs and how the adults would tolerate much more from the pups than they would from any of the others. 

For the first time she could remember, Elizabeth Jensen found herself feeling something between jealousy and resentment that only grew when she saw how well they all got on with Sophie. Sophie wasn’t anywhere near as isolated as Jake had been, but she had never been around so many Other kind at once and her excitement showed. She felt even worse when they actively tried to include her in their conversations, usually revolving around embarrassing anecdotes that she normally would have loved to have had the chance to listen to.

_-~^~-_

Jensen loved his niece, always had and always would, but he had never appreciated the fact that she was much more socially mature than he was until it came to introducing his team-pack.

When he had led them all into the main living room where Sophie and Liz had been waiting, he had found himself unable to form coherent sentences much to everyone’s amusement.

Things were just starting to get a little bit awkward when Sophie jumped up.

“I’m Sophie.” Her friendly smile shifted into a withering scowl as she continued. “If any of you hurt my Uncle Jake, I will hurt you. Lots.” She then stood, hands on hips, looking at each member of his new pack in turn – Jolene and Jas included – assessing them. After she had looked long enough to have each and every one of them shifting uncomfortably she had given a sharp nod before turning to Cougar and Jolene.

“Uncle Jake said you’d bring some of your chocolate and cakes. Did you?” she asked, making Jensen wince.

Cougar was the first to recover and he crouched down in front of her so that they were on eye level with each other. 

“Of course, mija,” he said as he pulled a small, gift wrapped box from a pocket and handed it to her. “These are yours. You do not let your Uncle Jake have any,” he added with a wink. “He’s already had his own.”

Sophie took the box almost reverently, stroking the glittery paper. She hugged Cougar, almost knocking the hat from his head, before turning and sticking her tongue out at Jensen.

“Ha! They’re mine!”

Jensen looked from a grinning Sophie to a smirking Cougar for a moment then sighed, his shoulders slumping. “They don’t love me anymore!” he lamented before turning to get a hug from Jolene and pretending to cry.

“There, there. I made cookies. It’ll all be alright.” Jolene was trying not laugh, but none of the others were making the attempt and Jensen felt cocooned in swathes of happiness and amusement. 

Quite incongruously for the moment, Jensen was struck by the realisation that he had never been in a room where so many of the people liked him. He stood up, smiled at Jolene – because, really, she didn’t have to go along with his stupidity – and looked around. Sophie had stopped giggling and was happily eating chocolate, sharing her ill gotten stash with Liz, Cougar and Jas. Clay and Roque were talking, heads close together as they surveyed the room. Pooch and Jolene were still laughing. For the first time Jensen understood what people meant when they said that life was good.

_-~^~-_

Jolene had been born into a moderately well off family who took yearly holidays and she had never wanted for anything, and between them she and Pooch were able to give Jas that and more. But none of that had prepared her for the Jensens’ family home. The place just screamed old money and Jolene couldn’t fit that image with the Jake Jensen who had fumbled his way through one of the sincerest thank you speeches she had ever heard, over a box of cookies of all things, as though receiving them was a significant event in his life. 

Jolene’s family, before they had disowned her when she chose Pooch over them, had held delusions of upward mobility. The name Jensen had cropped up during more than one family strategy meeting. Rich, influential and always willing to act as patron if they thought it would benefit them in the long run. They were part of a class that drew together in times of adversity, if only so they could have exclusive mocking rights while maintaining their aura of being untouchable. When asked about their son’s sudden absence from any and all society events they claimed that he had been granted entry to an exclusive overseas boarding school. That little titbit had been fuel for the family gossip mill for months when she had been younger.

Jolene was helping Liz in the kitchen, because no way were they going to trust a group like the Losers to so much as make toast without burning the place down – not even Cougar – when she finally asked the question that had been going unasked since they had arrived. 

“Yes we are,” Liz confirmed as they loaded the dishwasher. “I don’t think our parents ever saw the irony of the situation. The son of the biggest supporters of anti-Other kind legislation, a Changeling. They never lived it down. Do you know what the last thing they pushed for?”

Jolene shook her head. She was a little surprised by Liz’s response. She wasn’t sure of exactly what she had been expecting, but it hadn’t been being answered in a flat voice leeched of all emotion. Jolene suspected, but couldn’t confirm, that it was because there was too much emotion behind the words to be revealed by the other woman’s voice.

“For non humans to be barred from the military because they do not possess the necessary loyalty.” Liz shook her head. “Never mind that Other kind have always been some of the best. They didn’t trust them. If they had believed that they could get away with it, they would have killed Jake when he manifested. If they’d known Jake was more than just a Reciever, they would have done it anyway. Manipulators are potentially very dangerous, you know. It would have been for the public good.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes after that in different kinds of shock.

“Don’t tell Jake. He never knew that. I don’t even know why I told you,” she added in a half whisper. “I should have just left it at the yes or no point of the answer.”

Jolene paused before answering. “I won’t. And I think that sometimes you just need to say these things out loud.”

Liz gave her a wan smile. “If you ever need me to return the favour, you know how to find me. Now, I think I had better go and make sure that they haven’t destroyed the house. Jake’s a big enough menace on his own.”

“Very true. And what has Jensen been calling them? The Tiny Terrors? We should keep an eye on them as well.”

_-~^~-_

The next few days went well. It turned out that Sophie and Jas were made to be friends, or something, because after the exchange of chocolate and cookies they became almost inseparable, which was alright until they thought it would be a good idea to dismantle the DVD player. Even after Pooch fixed it, it’s still not quite the same machine.

Roque managed to not get lost and fervently denied using Clay as a shield against small children whenever Jensen decided to mention the man’s tendency to leave the room when the Tiny Terrors entered it. Roque also refrained from acts of physical violence, which may or may not be due to Sophie’s earlier threat, or alternatively the fact that even if Roque was technically the superior officer, Cougar had a mean glare, a tendency to light-footedness when he so chooses and just so happened to be the best sniper in the US. Jensen preferred the ‘Sophie is awesome!’ explanation, for obvious reasons.

The most disturbing thing about the whole affair was just how well Clay and his sister get along. It’s not attraction, thank fuck, because his sister isn’t nearly crazy enough to catch Clay’s eye and Jensen thinks Liz might have given up on men entirely by this point. But even Clay and Roque didn’t have the freaky mind link that Clay and his sister did, usually for when Jensen was about to do something monumentally stupid involving rope, a tree and the toy tea set that had been a present for Sophie back when she had liked that kind of stuff. 

When Jensen finally got the guts to ask the others about whether Sophie and Liz could be accepted into the pack he was met by rolled eyes and hugely unflattering remarks about his intelligence. And a knife that was promptly confiscated by his sister as she walked past the doorway with the promise that it would be returned, unmarked and unharmed, when it was time for the Losers to leave.

“They already are Jensen.” Clay told him. “They became a part of the pack when you did. Did no one ever explain any of this to you?”

Jensen shook his head. “I only know what I was able to find out, which wasn’t much.” Jensen had gone from feeling exultant to wishing the world would swallow him whole in the space of a couple seconds. It was like he was always ten steps behind everyone else and wearing a blindfold with his hands tied behind his back.

Jensen was so focused inward that the wave of annoyance took him completely by surprise and he looks up, trying to pinpoint from whom it came.

“If you can get Liz and the Tiny Terrors up here, we’ll answer any questions you have. Get it out of the way now,” Pooch told him.

_-~^~-_

In the end the Losers’ Lecture Series starteds around lunchtime, out under the small copse of trees with the hammocks and swing seats. Pooch, Jolene and Jas had taken one seat; Jas lying down with her head on her dad’s thigh as Jolene swung them gently back and forth. Clay, Roque and Cougar took the hammocks while Liz and Sophie took the second swing seat. Jensen curled up in the hollow between the roots of an old oak tree and wished he had a camera.

There was a picnic blanket laid out and covered in piles of food and drink, partly fuelled by Jensen’s new and improved appreciation for lemonade following the events in the hospital. 

“We’re a pack,” Clay started when everyone seemed to be comfortable. “Most packs and clans are hereditary, but there are some that are created by choice.”

“So, I have a pack? And Mum can be part of it with me and Uncle Jensen? Because we want to be?” Sophie asked and then grinned when Clay and the others nod their heads.

Jensen took in what the others are doing, but most of his attention was focused on his sister. She was exuding a whole range of emotion and it was hard to pick out any one in particular.

“That’s okay with you?” Liz asked and Jensen can see her studying faces.

“Yes. It’s not unusual for this to happen, you know. Especially with smaller packs.” 

There was a long pause, and Jensen could feel the shift in emotion of the people around him. He should really get around to mentioning something about what non-psyons could do to limit how much of their mental activity diffuses out.

“Alright,” Liz said after a while. “I guess that means you all get your own keys.”

“You know... the special occasion chocolate,” Jensen started to say only to have Cougar frown at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Those were meet the family chocolates. Now we need more new person in the pack chocolates. Completely different. Right Chipmunk?”

“Um hm,” Sophie confirmed with an enthusiastic nod.

“You can’t deny the Tiny Terror, Cougs. I mean, look at that face?” Jensen pointed at Sophie who somehow had tears in her eyes and who was also making fake sniffles as though she was on the verge of crying.

Jensen saw Cougar look from him to Sophie, roll his eyes and produce another box of chocolates the same way Roque was able to pull knives from thin air.

As their little party progressed, Jensen couldn’t help but notice the way Liz had changed. When she turned to look at him, he gave her a thumbs up and she grinned. Jensen decided that, for now at least, he would take the time to wallow in the fact that life was good. 

Pooch, Jolene and Jas were still rocking quietly, occasionally talking but mostly just basking in each other’s company. Sophie had conned Cougar, Clay and Roque into a miniature football match. About five minutes in, Sophie had decreed that it would be her and Roque versus Cougar and Clay because “Uncle Clay and Uncle Roque are rubbish”. Jensen thought from the way she stumbled over the last word that she had been about to say something that would bring down her mother’s wrath even as he tried to remember when the others had become aunts and uncles.

Jensen got up and took Sophie’s abandoned spot next to Liz.

“You really alright with this?” Jensen found he couldn’t look at her, not even out of the corner of his eye. “It just kind of happened and I thought... I’m sorry.”

“Jake,” Liz started, stopped, then took a deep breath and started again. “Jake, I’ve known for years that you needed something like this. Sophie too. It’s just a little hard to confront the fact that there are some things that I can’t give Sophie. It hurts. Just like knowing that while I’ll always be your sister, I’m not really your big sister anymore.”

“But Liz,” Jensen tried to interrupt but he had learned long ago that his sister was not one to stop once she was on a roll.

“No, Jake. We’ve had this discussion before. I’m glad you’ve found this and Sophie too. I never expected that I would be included as well. I think that once the shock wears off a little bit I’ll be just as excited as you were when you rang to ask if they could stay. I’m glad for all of us Jake, never doubt that. Now, do you think Sophie would let us join in? I think Cougar and Clay could use some back up.”

In two more days they would be back on base and more than likely prepping for the next mission. Jensen did his utmost best to ignore this little fact as he and Liz walked over to where the match was in full swing.


	7. Into the Labyrinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. Here's the new chapter.

Cougar was a watcher. It was in his nature. He could lie at the top of a hill, hat low over his eyes with his rifle tight against his shoulder for hours. Cougar was a watcher and there was nothing he could have done when his team were ambushed in the compound well away from any windows. He could hear Clay giving frantic orders, Roque growling and Pooch swearing. Jensen was silent. 

Cougar knew that they had all grown accustomed to Jensen’s unceasing chatter. It allowed them to gauge whether events were going well or if they had gone to shit, like the canary down the mine. But it wasn’t Jensen’s radio silence that made Cougar’s skin tingle with the need to shift. Over the time that Jensen had been a part of the pack – because this was a pack thing, not a team one – he had grown sure enough of his abilities, and in their assurances of trust to always keep a mental tab on them during a mission that reassured the rest of them as much as it did Jensen. 

Cougar had been unable to feel Jensen’s mental nudges for five minutes by the time he was scrambling gracelessly down the slope under the cover the scrubby bushes, barely keeping his balance as he rolled into the ditch at the bottom of the hill. He quickly checked to make sure that the rifle was fine in its case and his hat was angled to keep the sun out of his eyes as it sunk low towards the horizon. 

The comms on his team were dead. Cougar still hadn’t felt one of Jensen’s mental nudges which meant that the empath was still unconscious. There had been no reply from the handler when he had radioed in with the details of the situation, and Cougar would be damned if he was going to leave his pack in the hands of anti-American human supremacists while he waited for some idiot on the other end of a radio to get his arse in gear. 

When he reached the entrance to the main building, he could already smell the copper tang of Clay and Pooch’s blood on the air. It was three corridors and three dead goons before he could smell Roque’s. It wasn’t as strong as the scent of Clay and Pooch’s and implied that the pack second was relatively unharmed. Cougar only paused to take the gun from the first body and stopped only briefly after each of the others went down to collect any extra ammunition.

It was a fairly simple process of following his nose to find the cell where they had been dumped. It was at the end of a dark, curving corridor that was lined on either side by metal doors with small viewing windows and flaps just above floor level that were too small for anything larger than a house cat to fit through. Even before Cougar opened the door the smell was almost over powering. The scent of his injured pack mates brought his cat closer to the surface and Cougar could feel his canines elongate and sharpen and his vision became more like that of his cat, with gave him the benefit of being better able to see how many bullet holes there were in Pooch’s body where he lay in the shadows furthest from the door in infinitely more detail than his human eyes would have managed.

“There’s more levels underground. Fucking intel.” Roque’s voice was rasping, dry and barely louder than a whisper and Cougar could see how the larger man was cautious of how he moved his neck. It made Cougar reach reflexively for the pocket that held his water bottle and pass it over to Roque who took it in shaking hands and winced with each sip. “They have Jensen.” 

Cougar nodded, making sure than the movement had been exaggerated enough to be visible to Roque in the gloom. After growing up in the enclave of feline shifters it had taken longer than Cougar would have liked to become accustomed to the varying limitations and strengths that other shifters held and there had been too many times when one of his actions – hand signals or a nod or shake of his head – hadn’t been seen. It was one of the reasons that he had started to take his hat on missions so that whoever his team mates were they would at least be able to discern a nod or a shake.

It appeared that Pooch was the worst off. Roque had somehow ended up with a cut above his left eye that was still bleeding sluggishly. Clay was barely conscious. Cougar could see him looking from Roque to himself, and Cougar felt a small amount of the tension in his muscles ease. With Clay at least cognisant they would likely be able to make it out of the compound while Cougar went looking for Jensen. When Clay was recovered enough to give a shit he’d be furious, but he had long ago become resigned to Cougar’s many independent tendencies that were often required in their line of work even if it made Clay and his wolf irritable and bossier than usual for a week or so after each incident of near insubordination.

He passed his pathetically inadequate first aid supplies to Roque who just pointed out the door and jerked his chin before turning to Pooch.

“Stairs. Second door on the right after lab two.” Clay’s words were a little slurred, not helped by the way his body kept attempting to shift because wolves always healed faster in their canine rather than human form. That Clay’s wolf wanted out spoke to painful injuries on one or more limbs but that Clay was able to rise above the instinct meant that as long as the injuries didn’t become infected they were not life threatening. Good. “Meet at point B.”

Cougar nodded. Meet where they had left the jeep; a longer but more easily travelled journey for the injured that would be under shade while the others waited for Jensen and Cougar. Cougar gave Clay the gun and the extra ammo before stepping back out into the corridor.

As Cougar padded along the corridors that twisted like snakes, he muttered curses under breath for whoever had been smart enough to build in sweeping curves that folded back on themselves; that would have left even those most familiar with the routes through the building a little disorientated. It meant that finding the stairs had taken longer than it usually would have. It meant that Cougar had to struggle down the tightest, steepest spiral staircase Cougar had ever seen, almost tripping over his own feet with each step down. Cougar was maybe halfway down when people started coming up the other way. Thin, wide eyed and stinking of fear they came at him one at a time, like lemmings off a cliff, their shots missing him as their hands shook. It left a sour feeling in his gut that grew worse with every shot that hit its mark. 

He still hadn’t felt one of Jensen’s nudges and the whole situation left him tense and his cat so close to the surface that he was surprised he didn’t have a tail that twitched in agitation. None of it made any sense. Where were all the other people? The guards? Why had there been no mention of the building being partially underground? And how had they done so much damage to his team with apparently so few people?

He was surprised when there was nobody waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He would have been an easy mark stumbling half blind down the last few steps, hat tugged low over his eyes as if that would shield them from the florescent brightness that, for the briefest of moments, left him feeling as though he had crashed into a concrete wall.

When his sight had cleared he took a quick note of his surroundings. More curved corridors, hideously bright lights and under the swirl of others’ scents there was Jensen. He could smell no blood other than what he had brought with him down the stairs. There were no obvious signs of CCTV, not that he really expected any, but nor were there any more people. There were plenty of scents, including some that were clearly Other kind. But there was still no scent that could be associated with harm, even as he moved deeper into complex, methodically checking each room as he passed it. 

Nothing. Most of the rooms appeared to be sleeping quarters, cleaned until no scent of their previous occupants remained. 

Cougar had been following Jensen’s scent for about ten minutes when he felt the first hesitant nudge and Cougar increased his pace until he was almost sprinting. He would find Jensen, shoot whoever he had to and get them out of this labyrinth that made his skin prickle and his hiss and growl at the back of his mind. 

Cougar saw two more people on the way to the room that held Jensen. He paused for a moment outside the door, letting the waves of calm that Jensen was sending his way in before opening the door.

Cougar noticed several things in quick succession. Jensen had a small red puncture on his neck that was surrounded by a quickly forming bruise; a dart of some kind Cougar decided. Jensen wasn’t bound or otherwise hurt and there were two others in the room. A man and a woman; not overly large, no visible weapons and the wave of fear that now scented the air suggested that they weren’t fighters. Scientists? Researchers of some kind? They both flinched back when Cougar pointed his rifle in their direction; it looked strange in the small room, too large and more lethal for that although he was sure that he cut must have cut quite the figure too.

“Don’t!” Jensen didn’t shout, but he was firm, almost panicked. “Don’t shoot them. Please Cougar.” Jensen was fidgeting and Cougar could smell no fear just frustration and anger with something else beneath. Worry, maybe. “I can explain, just don’t shoot them.”

Cougar turned his head enough so that Jensen could see his raised eyebrow but he didn’t lose sight of whoever they were. They had started to shake, Cougar noted.

“The others?” When Cougar shrugged Jensen’s shoulders fell. “We need to take them with us.” Jensen gestured at the man and woman who now looked on the verge of tears. “I promise it’ll all make sense. Well, more sense anyway. We need to go now. I’ll vouch for them.”

Cougar took a moment to scent the air. There was nothing to imply that these people were anything but the shit scared people they appeared to be and Jensen would vouch for them. Cougar had only ever heard of one other being vouched for in his life time. It was a rare thing to have happen and required a lot of trust or something just as strong. Cougar knew that now Jensen had said those words he wouldn’t leave them behind, so rather than argue the point any longer and risk Pooch any further by waiting and arguing he nodded his head and backed out into the corridor and gestured to the others to follow.

Jensen better have a good explanation for this.


	8. Lab Coat Twins

Jensen knew that the others thought he was scatterbrained and couldn’t think in a straight line for more than five minutes if his life depended on it. This wasn’t true. By the time they arrived at point B Jensen was well on his way to extrapolating the likely outcomes of his having learned the truth, or more likely a facet of the truth. There wasn’t a single outcome that Jensen could see that ended well. Most of them involved lots of rope coiled into tight knots and dancing the jig of death. Jensen prattled about the possibility of a proto Indo-European language and the implications the answer to this could potentially have on the origins and development of human language as the researchers looked on utterly bemused by his actions. It didn’t release any of the tension in his muscles that had been steadily building since Cougar had entered that room with a serious fire under his arse.

He hadn’t been particularly surprised when Roque’s first response had been to fire a bullet that kicked dust all over his right boot when it struck, his pissed off grumbling a shocking contrast to the quick wave of relief that hit Jensen when Roque saw that they are mostly unharmed. He heard the woman – Terry? Teegan? – screech and was glad he didn’t have augmented hearing like the shifters as he attempted to filter out the researchers’ emotions. He had become infinitely more adept at using his ability since he had become a member of the pack and he often found himself drawing their emotions around him like a blanket when he was feeling agitated as over time even Roque’s slow burning anger had become soothing when his nerves were fraying. 

That thought brought to the surface a memory of the aftermath of his first mission with the Losers. On the surface it had looked like a basic in and out kind of job. But as Jensen had come to learn, they were the Losers and if they didn’t have bad luck they wouldn’t have had any luck at all. The place had been a fucking auction house. Roque had very nearly lost it completely. He would have done had Jensen not leeched most of his rage into himself. If the situation had been anything other than what it was – that they’d either lose Roque to enemy fire or court martial – Jensen did not think that he would have been desperate enough to allow himself to do it, it just left him feeling wrong somehow. Once they had gotten what they had come for – a small locked metal box – and had made their out to the extraction point with nary a wound between them, Jensen had relinquished his grip to Roque’s rage only to have it turned on him. It had taken Pooch and Cougar to lift Roque off of Jensen who had just stood in front of Roque staring down at his dirty boots. He didn’t feel the punch that damn near broke his nose or the kick to the gut that made him stagger backwards gasping for breath or any of the other blows that Roque lashed out with. It had been days before Roque would even enter the same room as him and Jensen slowly withered under the betrayal and distrust that seemed to ooze out of Roque to fill the house.

“Why?” Jensen had been surprised to find Roque standing in the doorway, armed crossed over his chest with a deep frown. Jensen still didn’t know what had been said to get Roque to speak to him after not so much as acknowledging Jensen’s existence for a week; he didn’t even know which of his other pack mates had said it.

Without really thinking about it, Jensen had looked up at Roque from where he sat at the desk, flicking through photos from his sister from the Losers’ visit to her house on his laptop, but looked away when he saw the look in Roque’s eyes. Jensen had kept a lid on his empathy since the mission but he knew enough about facial expressions to see the man was still angry, but there was something else as well. Now that Jensen was able to look back on it, he thought it might be doubt.

“You’re pack.” To Jensen that was the only answer he had to give and everything else just expanded from that in a spider’s web of Jensen logic. If it hadn’t been for the low growl emanating from the doorway, Jensen would have just gone back to laughing at the sight of Pooch looking terrified of being cornered by Sophie and Jasmine.

“Jensen.” 

Jensen flinched. “Well, er...” Jensen didn’t like fumbling his worlds because it was something utterly different from his tendency to chatter and prattle. “If I hadn’t done it, you would probably be dead. You’re pack, Roque. I couldn’t let... I had to...” Jensen stopped. He drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment before releasing it, letting the expulsion of air take some of the tension in his muscles with it. “It wouldn’t be right without you.”

Jensen could hear Roque moving but couldn’t make himself look back at his pack mate. 

“What did you do?” Roque’s voice was different. It wasn’t soft. Jensen didn’t think that anything about Roque could ever be soft, but there wasn’t the same harshness that had been there before.

“I didn’t stop you from feeling anything. It was all still there.” A deep, deep breath and Jensen flicked his gaze up to Roque to see him stepping forward step by quiet step. “I just left enough that it would let you complete the mission without it distracting you from what had to be done.”

When Jensen looked up again Roque was staring at him. Jensen found himself staring back and for once the action didn’t make Roque snap at him. Jensen couldn’t say what it was that Roque was looking for but Roque gave Jensen a sharp nod and left, leaving Jensen staring blankly at the empty doorway. 

Things had gone back to normal after that. Well, fairly normal. There was an underlying calm between them that hadn’t been there before and Jensen had to stop himself from wallowing in it.

_-~*~-_

“Who’re they?” Roque asked as he adjusted his grip on his rifle. “We don’t need any strays, Jensen. Why’d you let him bring them, Cougs?”

“It smelled important.” Cougar moved around Roque as he replied to check Clay and Pooch.

Jensen was watching the researchers as that exchange occurred and felt irritated by the way they both flinched. Jensen hadn’t had much time to get information out of them before Cougar had barged into the room and effectively put an end to what was already a stilted conversation brimming with anger and loathing on both sides. 

Jensen had barely felt the dart hit as he franticly typed and wasn’t able to register much more than surprise when his vision blurred and sound became muffled. Jensen had no idea if it was only meant to last a few minutes – enough to get him to the cell – or if they had underestimated his body’s metabolism, but the circle of faces above him looked far more surprised to see him coming round than he was by the sight of sterile walls and a thick metal door. But if his regaining conscious so quickly had surprised them, the speed with which he regained enough clarity of thought to attack and incapacitate them must have been truly astounding. Two had already hit the floor before they were able to move and Jensen knew that the slow response time and the fumbling of safeties were caused by the fear of suddenly realising that they were outmatched there in that small room where their weapons were more hindrance than help. It was almost pathetic how quickly he had subdued them and, when he took the time to look back on it, a little puzzling. Where were the people who knew what the fuck they were doing? They hadn’t even taken his gear away for fuck’s sake. The researchers had found him a few minutes later downloading data onto a flash drive and had both looked ready to piss themselves even as they brought out the threats. As if the bunch of clowns could keep the Losers down with Cougar watching their backs.

“Did we tell the monkeys where the safe house was?” Jensen asked as he turned and begin to pat them down. He had hoped that Pooch would have come out of the place conscious and able to tell if there was any tech on the researchers but it seemed that that was a no go because they needed to get Pooch to somewhere with something a more than bandages and plasters before... well Jensen didn’t really want to think about it.

“No, and we’re in enough shit for that as is, Jensen, without you adding more to the pile.” Roque had moved so that Cougar could move to better check Clay and Pooch’s injuries and was prowling back and forth, gazing flicking from point to point.

“Trust me you’ll be glad when I tell you what these little birdies have been doing. On that note.” Jensen pointed to the car. “Get in.”

“We are not-“ the male researcher began as Roque opened the vehicle’s door and twisted himself into the driver’s seat and was cut off when the sound of Roque slamming the door shut made him look as though he were about to piss himself.

“Do as you’re told. We’re not going to fucking kill you.” Jensen had never been one to snarl at people, he usually relied on a kind of mocking cheerfulness that made any given situation worse as often as it improved matters, but that time he did. It left him feeling as though he were edging in on Roque’s territory in some way.

The way the researcher’s paled was almost satisfying as Jensen watched them both scramble into the back.

Jensen took the passenger seat just as Cougar thumped the side to say that they were good to go and he’d done what he could for Clay and Pooch.

“I’m Ter-“ The woman began, and if Jensen reached out he could feel fear and anger coalescing into a brittle kind of determination.

“Don’t care.” Roque’s tone was clipped as he focused on the road ahead and Jensen was left wondering if the shifter had been injured. “Why’d you bring them, Jensen? And why the fuck did I not just leave their sorry arse’s back there?”

“You brought them because you know that I’m smart enough to have an enormously good reason for not leaving them behind in that hell hole. D’you know what that reason is Roque?” Jensen shifted as they were all jolted about as they sped over pot holes and took sharp bends a little too fast. He kept his gun on the researcher’s who had fallen silent again with their latest gambit having fallen flat before the wall of Roque’s indifference.

“That place is owned and run by the Centre.” 

The string of expletives that followed that announcement was an education for Jensen, who made a note of a few that he might use at a later date.

“The Centre? You mean that the shit hole we had orders to destroy is owned by the fucking government?” It took a lot to get a rise out of Roque, and by the way the shifter was almost sputtering it seemed that Jensen had succeeded. “That still doesn’t explain the Lab Coat Twins.”

“I didn’t get a full look at their systems, but these two can tell us what we need to know. Can’t you?” Jensen decided he would keep the Lab Coat Twins name as he gave them a slow smile.

“You’ll let us go if we do?” 

“Oh, I will,” Jensen assured them, half expecting that when the time came Roque would likely be washing blood off his knives before the rest of them could stop him. After what he had seen of the facility’s computer he wasn’t sure he would give a shit if that happened.

“We hole up in the safe house until they have told us what we want to know then we go to Plan K.”

“Stop talking Jensen.”

Jensen took that to mean that Roque agreed.

“Who’s up for a game of I Spy?” It took a lot of energy to dredge up the fake cheeriness as he grinned inanely at the Lab Coat Twins.

“Shut up Jensen.” That had been Clay, quiet but steady from the back, and for one insane moment Jensen thought that they might be able to make it out of this shit storm alive. Maybe. 

Roque kept driving.


End file.
